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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2202067
by n.lea
Rated: E · Poetry · Dark · #2202067
Poetry a venting of my heart
A word
A thought
An idea
Inked on sleeves of paper
Hard bound
A supposed place
to heal my soul.
A nook all my own
That lays a whisper
To all that boils
And brews within.
A safe place
Which does not feel safe.
A theft of my heart
And of my being
Was placed in your hands
To nurture and grow.
No growing did commence,
Merely shrinkage
Of me
Of my essence
Of all that I was to become.

Yet here I plead
"Oh my soul".
Can the most high not hear?
Has he turned his ear
Deaf against me?

I wallow
in anguish
In confusion
In fear.

"Oh save my soul"
I cry out to thee
© Copyright 2019 n.lea (inkonthetrees at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2202067